Thursday, June 27, 2013

A version of this was published in The Santa Fe New MexicanJune 28, 2013
I never would have thought that in 1998 when I first heard Johnny Dowd’s first album, Wrong Side of Memphis — which at the time I wrote was one of the “strangest albums of the ’90s” — that he would be making another album twice as strange 15 years later.

But that’s exactly what he’s done with his latest, Do the Gargon which will be available in early August. It’s a concept album of sorts, dealing with a mysterious character who might not even be human.

Born in Fort Worth and raised in Memphis and Pauls Valley, Oklahoma, Dowd started a successful moving company in Ithaca, New York, before he began making albums. He was 50 years old when Wrong Side of Memphis came out.

It gives me a certain faith in humanity that regular working guys might have bizarre musical ideas like these “Gargon” songs bouncing around in their heads as they’re moving your furniture. That’s what makes America great.

So who or what is this Gargon? “Gargon was a character that we ran into on the road several different times,” Dowd recently told his local paper, the Ithaca Journal. “The first time was in Denver, when we opened for a heavy-metal band that was dressed as trolls with scythes and robes. They all seemed sort of Gargon-ish, to use it as an adjective.

“I also was thinking of the Frankenstein movies — inside, he was a nice person, with the exterior of a monster. But in these songs, does Gargon appear as a monster with a soft heart or does he appear normal with a monster’s heart?”

As Dowd writes on his website, “All I can say is: look around, look in the mirror, look at me. He is the beast within who got his feelings hurt (boo hoo), he is the boy left at a filling station in the great state of Nebraska in 1953. He says ‘rock and roll will never die,’ and he is a pretty good dancer. That’s why mother married him.”

(Some deep Dowd trivia here: Dowd’s website bio says that his mom married his dad because of his dancing skills. And in the Ithaca Journal interview, Dowd talks about being accidentally left behind at a gas station during a family vacation at the age of 4 or 5. He mentions that story in the title song of this album as well as “Gargon’s Disco Balls.”)
Dowd sings or mostly talks, and he plays guitar here, backed by longtime musical cronies Michael Stark on keyboards and Brian “Willie B” Wilson on drums and bass pedals. Most of the tracks feature an electro-boogie-beat musical backdrop — think a less slick version of “Sharp-Dressed Man”-era Z.Z. Top.

The opening track, “Gargon Gets All Biblical,” starts out with what sounds like a distorted, mutated, synthesized Creedence Clearwater Revival riff. Finally, Gargon speaks. “Wherefore art thou? … Hast thou no mercy ?… On my birth date there was darkness and no breast to suckle. … I am forsaken.” Later in the song, Gargon addresses a woman. “Oh my damsel, so sweet, so fair/My misery with you, I’d love to share.”

This is followed by three and a half minutes of rocking Dowdian madness in a song called “Shaquille.” No, I haven’t quite figured this one out yet as some of the lyrics are incomprehensible.

Gargon reappears in a song titled “Nancy Sinatra.” Here, we learn about another side of the character. “Gargon has a miniskirt he wears to places fancy/In a pair of go-go boots he borrowed from Nancy Sinatra/Gargon is a beast, walkin’ kind of prancy/Like a robot ballerina down the Strip with Nancy Sinatra.”

Dowd reveals more aspects of the title character. In the slow, spooky dirge from the dark dimension called “Girl in the Suitcase,” we learn that Gargon was once in love with a red-headed girl from a shantytown. At the tune’s end, Dowd sings, “All things pass/It’s only memories that last/She’s in his suitcase, his only memory that lasts/He’s in love, in love.” A listener is left wondering if there are human remains in that suitcase.

Then in “Touch Her Cheek,” which has a bluesy hook similar to that of Frank Zappa’s “I’m the Slime,” we find out that Gargon has a tender side. “Gargon would cut off his arm just to touch your cheek/With his other arm, he would touch your cheek.”

The first half of the nearly six-minute” Butterflies and Unicorns” sounds like a weird marriage between Black Sabbath and ’70s jazz fusion. But then the tempo slows down, and Dowd’s guitar gets psychedelic, with hints of Funkadelic’s “Maggot Brain.” Meanwhile, Dowd recites more Gargon tales: “Gargon with his iron lung/He says that every single song has been sung.”

Not all of the songs deal directly with Gargon. For instance, “Pretty Boy” is a comical look at a sharp-dressed man. “I want to kiss myself, ’cause I’m so pretty,” Dowd declares. “I’m a big-town playboy out of Oklahoma City.” I’m betting this tune has its origins in an obscure early ’60s cat called Lord Sundance, whose songs “Pretty Lord Sundance” and “The Return of the Pretty One” tell the story of another guy who wants to kiss himself. (The narrator of “Shaquille” wants to kiss himself too. Coincidence?)

Musically, this is one of Dowd’s most rocking records. However, I miss the concise storytelling found on his previous works. Earlier albums showed that Dowd has the ability to deliver deep and disturbing sagas of small-time criminals, humiliated lovers, stalkers, and various other kinds of outcasts wrapped in neat three- or four-minute packages.

This album is a look at one character, the enigmatic Gargon, from a variety of angles. It’s an interesting experiment, but I hope Dowd hasn’t completely abandoned the elements of his songcraft that made us love him in the first place.Video time ...

Wednesday, June 26, 2013

For reasons best known to Stephen Jules Rubin, I've been asked to play some tunes at the Julesworks Follies, a monthly variety show taking place at the Aztec Cafe, 7 pm Saturday Night. It's one of my increasingly rare musical performances, so come check it out.

According to the event's Facebook page, the show will feature The Julesworks Monty Python Recreation Brigade Squadron Posse UnDead Frog will perform the Python sketch of the Australian Bruces with the sing-a-long "Philosopher’s Song." Also you'll see their first attempt at the famous scene from Monty Python and TheMeaning of Life of the man who exploded after eating too much in the restaurant.

From the comedy Airplane! there will be reenactments of the cockpit scenes and "a very special presentation of the famed `Jive Brothers'.” The cast for these homage rip offs includes Rubin, Stephen Rommel, Leticia Cortez and Tom Sibley.

And, yes, there will be puppets! Daryl Wellington and his new puppet troupe “Sun Pulling Freak Puppet Theater” will present their “Puppet Therapy." (Hope my dressing room is bigger than the one for the puppets.)

Saturday, June 22, 2013

I just learned of the death of KSFR's Diego Mulligan a few minutes ago.

He was a major player in the effort to save KSFR back in the late '90s, when the administration of Santa Fe Community College was trying to get rid of the station. Thanks to those efforts, KSFR emerged as and remains a strong independent station.

Here's a statement from KSFR Board Chair Marilyn Mason:

It is with deep sadness we report the death of KSFR's Diego Mulligan. He will be remembered not only as the inspiring host of the Journey Home show, but as an avid environmentalist. His daily program provided the platform for educating a generation of Santa Feans about climate issues and the human condition. Diego suffered from multiple health problems over the past several years, and we had all pulled for him to recover fully. His passing is a shock.I know you'll join me in sending deepest sympathies to his wife Jennifer and children.

Diego Mulligan is the anchor for Santa Fe's longest running daily radio talk show–The Journey Home, on KSFR 101.1 FM, Santa Fe Public Radio, and is an independent alternative all about People, Planet and Politics. The daily show airs live every weekday (M–F) from 5:06 to 6:00 PM MT covering the Rio Grande Valley from Albuquerque to Taos, New Mexico, USA. Diego interviews a remarkable range of local-to-global experts on the nitty-gritty of cultural transformation on our journey home to a more livable world. With youthful curiosity and edgy humor he and his world-class guests explore practical solutions aimed at sustaining person and planet, while enjoying the journey along the way.

Diego is best described as an avid explorer of new options and the innovative power of people. As an aspiring generalist, he understands whole systems and draws attention to the connections that bring us together. His gift as a cultural interpreter is to help people grasp the changes and challenges facing us, and how individuals, families, businesses and communities can navigate their course to a more positive and sustainable future.

Early Background

Born in Miami, Florida in 1950, Diego Mulligan grew up in the Bahama Islands as an American expatriate. He was the first American boy to live fulltime on Grand Bahama, where he was part of a multi-cultural working class and professional community of pioneers, resort developers, underwater divers and seafarers. Diego was seduced by the stunning diversity of Grand Bahamas’s coral reefs and tropical forests, where he learned to SCUBA dive and build thatched huts and tree houses at an early age. As a youth member of the International Underwater Explores Society, he carried diving gear for such notables as Jacques Cousteau, Lloyd Bridges and Walter Cronkite. He has been committed to environmental restoration ever since.

In 1968 Diego began his first career in radio. After dropping out of college ("It seemed irrelevant and not challenging") he gained a coveted First Class Radio-Telephone Engineering license from the Federal Communications Commission and began hosting top-rated music shows in medium and major markets from Virginia's Shenandoah Valley to Miami's Gold Coast. He was one of the first DJs to develop the Album Oriented Rock format as an alternative to Top 40 in the late 60s, and went on to develop the now-popular Modern Country Crossover format before leaving commercial radio and TV in 1973. During this period he was also an exhibition sport parachutist (Skydiver) making over 200 freefalls and experiencing a wide variety of interesting situations.

Having protested the draft during the sixties, Diego was one of the first to join the all-volunteer military in 1973. After completing U.S. Army Aviation College with top honors he became an FAA-licensed and fully rated Air Traffic Controller (ATC) serving at one of Europe's busiest airports. Here he earned the nickname 'Emergency Mulligan', due to a coincidentally high number of pilots declaring emergencies during his shift. Though not one of them was his doing, Diego became an expert at dealing with various emergencies and crashes, such as talking down lost pilots in bad weather, and organizing search & rescue missions for downed aircraft from heavy-lift CH-47s to U-2 spy planes. After a near-death experience himself, Diego changed direction and eventually left ATC.

In 1976 entered the emerging field of Sustainable Community Development. After doing several internships, he was invited to join NGO projects in Europe and Africa, among them British-based Green Deserts (1978) where he served as communications director. He then went on to co-found the Tunisian Institute of Appropriate Technology (1980), and create the Community Economic & Ecological Development Institute (1988) and Center for Sustainable Community in Santa Fe (1990), and was co-founder of the Commons on the Alameda, the American Southwest's first successful CoHousing Community (1992). During this 20-year period he spent 12 years working abroad where he studied traditional architecture and village design. He also did extensive field-work in arid land restoration and reforestation, technology assessment and transfer with UNESCO, group governance and consensus building (Findhorn Foundation, Scotland), community economic development (Suffolk, England), and resident directed housing, environmental education, and renewable energy systems both in the nonprofit and private sectors (Santa Fe). As a consultant, he provided professional services for Aldea de Santa Fe (now completed), and Oshara Village (a 462 acre "sustainable transition town" now under construction in Santa Fe County).

He returned to commercial radio in 1993 with the Connections Radio Journal – a daily afternoon drivetime show – and shifted to Public Radio in 1997 as host of the popular daily talk and interview show, The Journey Home on KSFR 101.1 FM, Santa Fe Public Radio. In 2005 he co-founded the New Village Institute, and as the executive director, he consults with nonprofit groups, public institutions and real estate developers on the practical issues of creating a sustainable neighborhoods, community and culture, from resident directed sub-division design to renewable energy and conservation systems.

Politics

Politically Diego is fiercely independent. After starting as campus president of Young Republicans and (Young Americans for Freedom) in college, Diego composted his rose-colored Republican credentials after interviewing Ronald Reagan up close in an elevator one day. Since then he has participated with the Libertarian, Green and Democratic parties, and considers himself a progressive who embraces the best of liberal and conservative approaches to public policy, but has little interest in the ideologies of Left & Right politics.

Personal

Diego is married to Jennifer Hanan who co-produces The Journey Home Radio Show. He has three children, Mikhaila (27), Joss (20) and Jaden (2). With invaluable support from Jennifer, Diego is living his dream to advance the field of sustainable living, while sharing the process with a growing community of radio listeners, while learning to – above all – enjoy the journey.

Current: 2011– 2013

In 2004 Diego began designing the Oshara Synergy House and began building in September 2009. The idea was to combine deep green building design with a whole systems approach to renewable energy, water harvesting, food growing and home-based cottage industries. Together with Jennifer's input and commitment they decided to go all in, and construct this owner-built family home to include studios for producing The Journey Home Radio Show and other creative content, plus provide space for gatherings, live music, a country kitchen and gardens, and a village innovation workshop as an integrated center demonstrating sustainable living systems.

Two-thirds of the way into the project, in September 2011, Diego suffered a spinal cord injury that required life-saving surgery. This began a health and healing crisis that also caused a debilitating heart arrhythmia that required a pacemaker implant. Then in September 2012 it was discovered that Diego had contracted a fairly rare blood cancer. The disease – though life-threatening – can be slowed with chemotherapy and managed with stem-cell transplant technology scheduled for early 2013.

Thursday, June 20, 2013

A version of this was published in The Santa Fe New MexicanJune 21, 2013

One of the most satisfying records in the “underground country” vein so far this year isn’t even from this country. I’m talking about the self-titled album by The Dinosaur Truckers, a (mostly) acoustic quartet from Germany.

A Teutonic melding of Dinosaur Jr. and The Drive-by Truckers? Nope. These guys don’t sound much like either of those bands. They’re closer to the newer breed of country rock represented by groups like The Goddamn Gallows, Honky Tonk Hustlas, and The Calamity Cubes.

Starting out just a few years ago as Pistol Pete & The Dinosaur Truckers (I don’t know what happened to Pistol Pete), this group is a banjo-and-stand-up-bass-centered band with strong affinity for bluegrass, although — simmer down, purists — it isn’t a bluegrass band.

For one thing, these Truckers frequently feature electric guitar (heavy on the tremolo) and a lap steel for that lonesome sound heard on Hank Williams records. The Truckers are fond of minor-key songs that start out slow before exploding into banjo fury or mandolin mayhem. These guys can play, and they like to play it fast when the spirit says “fast.”

If you’re expecting songs with lyrics about sweet country sunshine, forget it. There’s a certain apocalyptic mood that runs through The Dinosaur Truckers, fortified by song titles such as “Burn the Place to the Ground” (a good-time stomp, and musically it is the closest thing to real bluegrass on the album); “Wolves in the Street” (with an ominous chorus that goes, “I had a crazy dream of a long black limousine that was broken down and covered all in rust/There were wolves in the street and vultures in the trees/And a plastic casket that turned to dust”); and the opening track, “Black Ship.”

That one starts out with a burst of electric-guitar feedback, and then comes a primitive, heavy-foot brontosaurus waltz with a slow, ominous “la la la” chorus before breaking into galloping bluegrass mode.

You might think that the moody “Box of Memories” is a long-lost Townes Van Zandt song. It’s one of the slower songs here with a slide guitar that sounds downright ghostly. “Shadow Fallin’ Down My Face” might remind you of something by Calexico thanks to the mariachi trumpets that seem to come out of nowhere.

The Truckers’ prettiest moment has to be the exquisite “Leave Everything Behind,” a song about a guy trying to escape his ghosts. The chorus has a sly reference to an old Merle Haggard song: “And when I wake with change on my mind/And that old radio plays ‘The Running Kind’/And the weather and the wind whispers too me once again/It’s about time to leave everything behind.”

I hope that music this soulful never becomes extinct, no matter where it come from.

The Cubes are an acoustic trio from Wichita, Kansas — banjo, guitar, and stand-up bass. They draw from bluegrass, folk, gospel, country, and rock. And two of the three members — banjoist Joey Henry and guitarist Brooke Blanche — are strong songwriters.

On Old World’s Ocean all of the songs are good, but two of them — “Empty Bottle” and “Same God” — are outstanding. Both are slow, sad ballads written and sung by the gravel-voiced Blanche, a man-mountain of a dude who looks like a meaner version of the old wrestler Hillbilly Jim, but, judging by his lyrics, has a soul as deep and ancient as Leonard Cohen’s.

“Empty Bottle” is the kind of tune the late George Jones could have nailed. “I’d rather have an empty bottle than no bottle at all/To remind me of the good times before last call/To remind me of the taste before the fall.”

By the next verse Blanche is singing about a possibly troubled relationship with “this rowdy woman” whom he vows to keep because “this life is a struggle, and I need someone to hold.” A listener is left wondering whether this love affair has become as empty as the bottle the singer also vows to hang on to.
“Same God” sounds like an existential crisis unfolding before your very ears. What can you say about a song that begins with the lines:

“You and I we’re like cattle in the slaughter house/By the time we realize where we are it’s too late to get out/And all the kicking and biting and scratching won’t do it/And all the endless hoping and praying won’t do it.”

The most jarring part of the song is the bridge, in which Blanche borrows from the Elephant Man, moaning, “And I’m not an animal /And I’m not a criminal/You said you’d save my soul/But it feels terrible.” With the refrain, “It’s the same God that never was,” the song could be an atheist confessional. But it sounds deeper than someone trying to make a theological point. The whole song aches with betrayal and pain, as if the singer is losing his religion as you watch him go down.

These two songs are the best I’ve heard come out of the new country underground. I want to hear more.

Some video actionSome good ol' Kraut Kountry with The Dinosaur TruckersAnd here's The Calamity Cubes performing at a bar, on the bar

Friday night during the first hour of The Santa Fe Opry, The Copper Gamins, my favorite blues-punk duo from the mountains of Mexico, will play live before they have to run off to their gig at The Underground at Evangelo’s (200 W. San Francisco St.; call 577-5893 for cover ).

No, they’re not country (simmer down, purists), but they’re a lot of fun.

The radio show starts at 10 p.m. Friday, June 21, on KSFR-FM 101.1 and streams live at www.ksfr.org.

In the spring of 1980 I had a weekly Sunday night music gig at The Forge, a bar located at The Inn of the Governors where Del Charro is now. I also was freelancing for The Santa Fe Reporter -- mostly music stories at that point, reviews, interviews, etc.

But one Sunday night in late May of that year, something happened during my Forge gig that helped turn me into a newsman.

A guy at a table started getting angry and noisy, accusing people of stealing money from him. He started toward the exit, shouting obscenities then picked up a wooden chair and hurled it, hitting a woman in the head.

Most people I knew had thought it was pretty cool that they were shooting that movie here. Film industry promoters had estimated that the movie would boost the local economy to the tune of $4 million or $5 million.

I'd even written a song called "Tonto's Lonesome Dirge," based on the Lone Ranger mythos -- and influenced by Carlos Castaneda's Don Juan books.

One step at a time, now, kemosabe

This desert is a most mysterious place ...

I fantasized some big-shot Hollywood type would stop by The Forge for a drink, hear my song and would be so impressed he'd put it in the movie. (Didn't happen. Instead they used a song by a better-known singer named Merle Haggard.)

But the night of the chair-throwing incident I learned that the staff and the regulars at The Forge had become pretty fed up with the Lone Ranger. This wasn't the only incident at the bar involving folks from the movie. In fact, just the night before, the Lone Ranger himself -- actor Klinton Spilsbury had caused a ruckus there, throwing drinks, grabbing a microphone from a singer, banging on a piano while the band was trying to play. (I was friends with that band, a folk group called Distilled Spirits.)

People ought to know about this, I thought. So I talked to the news editor at the Reporter, Marty Gerber and he told me to talk with people involved and put something together.

I talked to a waitress at Casablanca (which was a bar in La Fonda) who said that Spilsbury had hit her after she scolded him about purposely dumping drinks and breaking glasses. I talked to the managers at Casablanca and The Forge who confirmed that Spilsbury was no longer welcome in their establishments.

It was my first attempt at writing a news story. And I suppose that was painfully obvious to the editors. My story was heavily re-written. In the published version I was quoted as a source because I witnessed the chair-throwing incident.

Thursday, June 13, 2013

A version of this was published in The Santa Fe New MexicanJune 14, 2013The last time thatMose McCormack, the Alabama-born country singer and songwriter now living in Belen, released an album (2009’s After All These Years), I noted that it had been 12 years since his previous record, Santa Fe Trail. And it had been 16 years between Santa Fe Trail and the one before that (1981’s Mosey Mac).

So, I’m happy to report that McCormack’s new one, Mosey On… is out a mere four years since the last one. For McCormack, that might be a land speed record.

I’m even happier to report that once again McCormack has created an ace collection of songs. Though he’s not nearly as famous as he ought to be, McCormack is a credit to the entire genre of country music.

I recognize a handful of these tunes from a live performance on my radio show The Santa Fe Opry a few years ago.

Among those are the best tracks on Mosey On … . First there’s “Under the Jail,” an outlaw tale that starts out with the line “Robbed a bank in Colorado/I rode my horse to death near the Taos County line.” The refrain begins with a little Woody Guthrie populism: “Stealin’ is stealin’ far as I can tell/ The outlaw and the banker meet on the road to hell.” But then the tone shifts to “Mama Tried” guilt: “Mama always told me, I remember well/‘Son, they’re going to put you under the jail.’ ” I think we can all agree that being under the jail is worse than being inside the jail.

Even better is the song “Hillbilly Town.” McCormack’s radio performance of this was jaw-dropping, and the studio version is strong too. It starts off with McCormack’s lonesome harmonica before the whole band comes in, with keyboardist Dick Orr’s organ in the lead. The lyrics tell the story of a young musician “determined to float while all around him drown.” The protagonist’s quest for stardom leads him to places like “the alley behind the peep shows and the lower Broadway bars.” But he’s determined to hold on to his dignity. “Play it like a gunslinger before they shoot you down./But you play it like a bluesman in some hillbilly town.”

My other favorites here include the Tex-Mex-flavored “Naco Jail” (yes, another jail song). You know that correctional facility — maybe even under that correctional facility — is where the narrator is heading when he sings, “Well, the bartender liked my horse, and his wife she loved my eyes/And I knew I was in trouble when her hand fell to my thighs.”

Mose, flanked by his thuggish bodyguards

“Native Son” stands out because it’s actually closer to rock or blues than country, with a crime-jazzy hook that Stan Ridgway could sink his teeth into. I was listening to it one day last week after reading several stories about government surveillance, the PRISM program, etc. These lines from the song reached out and hit me: “He’s changing his ID, taking it on the lam/’Cause in computer justice, call it Big Brother watching you/What have you done?/There goes another native son.”

Not all of McCormack’s songs deal with fugitives from justice, jails, and seedy cantinas. For instance, the banjo- and fiddle-driven “Honeysuckle Vine” is nothing but a sweet love song. “Sweeter than molasses, that pretty little gal of mine/When she wraps her arms around me like a honeysuckle vine.” On “Mr. Somebody,” a cool honky-tonk shuffle, the narrator is a middle-aged guy who realizes that his youthful “dreams of flying” are now dreams that are dying.

Like nearly all of his albums since his 1976 debut Beans and Make Believe, Mosey On … was recorded at Albuquerque’s John Wagner Studios. Wagner plays guitar, accordion, and drums on the record. McCormack has a sturdy bunch of New Mexico musicians behind him.

And almost every time I play this record, I find something else to like about it — a fiddle lick, a clever lyric. I just hope it doesn’t take years and years for McCormack to do another record.

Mose is playing live on The Santa Fe Opry at 10 p.m. tonight (Friday, June 14) on KSFR-FM 101.1 FM and streaming at www.ksfr.org.

Also recommended

* Ride byWayne Hancock. Apparently in the past few years, Wayne “The Train” could have turned into Wayne “The Train Wreck.” His wife left him, and he ended up in rehab a couple of times. His backup band broke up. And if you think that sounds like a recipe for some country songs, you’re thinking right. Hancock — a master country traditionalist whose blend of juke-joint blues, western swing, rockabilly, and Hank-style heartache songs — unabashedly writes about his life.

It’s obvious from the first line of the first song, the title track. “Well, me and my baby was splittin’ up, and I’m feelin’ really bad inside.” Then in “Best to Be Alone,” Hancock moans, “I had a good gal that I loved so/We both got married, not long ago/But then my drinking got in the way/So she left me, a year ago today.” “Fair Weather Blues” might remind Bob Wills fans of “Trouble in Mind,” but lines like “I’m gonna lay down my sorrow/And listen to the falling rain/I feel so lonely/But the thunder will ease my pain” remind me of Hancock’s own “Thunder Storms and Neon Signs.”

So, yes, in some ways, this is a country confessional album. But don’t think for a second that it’s all cry-in-your-beer music. For instance the song “Ride” isn’t so much about Hancock’s marriage as it is about the joys of motorcycles. It’s an upbeat, rocking little tune with some mean guitar solos. And just because he has sobered up doesn’t mean he can’t sing about strong drink. He does that in “Cappuccino Boogie.” Hancock sings, “Well I dig a java shot with the gone girl at the counter/I get a triple shot brother just to be around her.”

One of the strongest songs here is “Deal Gone Down,” a brutal little tale based on a true story about a guy who went into some Texas juke joint — his wife had been having an affair with the bartender — and he shot up the place and killed a bunch of people. “Well that was 30 years ago but it seems like it was yesterday/And all the blood turned to dust, and the rain came and washed it away.” And that’s why I love country music.

Wednesday, June 12, 2013

The Copper Gamins, a lo-fi garage/punk/blues duo from San Miguel, Mexico. are coming to The Underground -- that's the basement of Evangelos -- on Friday June 21,

The Gamins, are made up of singer/guitarist José Carmen, who howls like a wounded dog, while drummer Claus Lafania sounds like a speed freak swatting mosquitoes with a baseball bat. They follow a line of blues-bashing twosomes, going back to the Flat Duo Jets through early Black Keys and White Stripes on up through The King Khan & BBQ Show.

These Saustex recording artists are touring all over the country on a tour booked by former Santa Fe punk rocker (and current member of The Hickoids) Tom Trusnovic.

If you miss them in Santa Fe, the Gamins will be playing at Sister in Albuquerque on June 23

Monday, June 10, 2013

One of the finest achievements of popular music was released 40 years ago this year. And there's a good chance you never heard of it.

I'm talking about Heart Food by the late Judee Sill.

I reviewed a reissue of the album 10 years ago in Terrell's Tuneup. The album had been out of print at that point for nearly 30 years. Then I wrote:

I've loved this album since the first time I heard it when I was 19 years old. And as longtime readers of this column know, generally I hated most '70s mellow California female singer-songwriters. (Judee's self-titled first album - also just re-released on Rhino Handmade - was the first album to be released on Asylum Records, David Geffen's haven for L.A. singer-songwriter types. Jackson Browne's debut was the second.)

Judee was a strange and uncomfortable presence in the early '70s music scene. Coming from a well-to-do Hollywood family, she could almost have been the model for Joni Mitchell's "Trouble Child" or even "Little Trouble Girl" by Sonic Youth. We were all rebellious and contrary back then, but Judee carried it all the way - drugs, possibly prostitution and eventually jail, where it's said she kicked a heroin habit, at least for a while.

Although her two albums received critical praise, like most of the stuff I like, they didn't make beans. Judee soon disappeared.

For many years I hoped for a follow-up to Heart Food. In recent years I fantasized about a big "comeback" where Judee would get some of the recognition she deserved.

I didn't learn until a couple of years ago that Judee was dead. She didn't even make it to the '80s. The CD booklet for Heart Food and other sources say she died of a drug overdose in 1979 (though the online All Music Guide quotes Graham Nash as saying he heard Judee had died as early as 1974).

Apparently, after she was injured in a car crash, Judee became addicted to painkillers, which led her back to heroin. By the time she died, she'd been out of the spotlight so long that the press didn't know it.

The "masterpiece within the masterpiece" in Heart Food was "The Donor," an eight minute dark-night-of-the-soul meditation. In my column I said it "sounds like what "Surf's Up" would have been had Brian Wilson called on Leonard Cohen to write the lyrics instead of Van Dyke Parks."

"So sad, and so true that/even shadows come/and hum a requiem / Now songs from so deep,/while I'm sleepin';/seep in sweepin' over me/Still the echo's achin',/'Leave us not forsaken.'/Kyrie Eleison."

What got me thinking about Judee and Heart Food and "The Donor" was a recent post on the Dangerous Minds blog. There, Jason Louv writes, "`The Donor' is the heaviest thing I have ever heard. And the best."

Here's a couple of songs from the album, including a live performance of "The Kiss."

A version of this was published in The Santa Fe New MexicanJune 7, 2013

They’re back. It’s been 16 years or so since their previous studio album, but Memphis’ finest-trash rockers, The Oblivians, have unleashed an album of new songs. It’s called Desperation. And it’s a kick and a half.

Perhaps they are not quite as hyper-energetic as they were back in the ’90s. And perhaps some of their longtime fans might be disappointed that none of the new songs contain any profanity in their titles, and that unlike some of their old albums, the pretty woman on the cover of Desperation has all of her clothes on.

But make no mistake about it, this is an Oblivians album, one they can be proud of — full of humor, passion, and lo-fi crazy slop, with echoes of soul, blues, rockabilly, and of course, wild, unfettered garage rock. And there are even a few somewhat melodious tunes that almost suggest a certain tenderness.

For those unfamiliar with the joys of Oblivia — and that number is shockingly high, because even in the band’s prime, their following didn’t grow much beyond cult-level — the group was a trio. Greg Cartwright, Jack Yarber, and Eric Friedl took turns on lead vocals, guitar, and drums. When the band split up after the excellent … Play Nine Songs With Mr. Quintron — a wild gospel-influenced romp featuring Mr. Q, a New Orleans organ wizard — the three stayed involved in the music biz.

Cartwright formed the highly respected Reigning Sound; Yarber has recorded under the name Jack Oblivian (his 2011 album Rat City was lots of fun) and with a band called the Tennessee Tearjerkers; and Friedl has played in bands like Bad Times and The Dutch Masters, though he’s best known as founder and owner of Goner Records, a Memphis-based label and record shop.

The three have been playing “reunion” shows for several years (including a tour with The Gories, another band that broke up in the ’90s but rose from the dead a few years back).

But it wasn’t until last year that Cartwright, Yarber, and Friedl started writing new songs together and recording. The whole shebang was recorded last year in less than a week at the Black Keys’ Dan Auerbach’s studio in Nashville.

Desperation starts off with “I’ll Be Gone,” a hard-driving tune that reminds me of the late Jay Reatard’s sound. It’s a good statement of purpose for the album. “There ain’t no way to know/How life will change you so/Let’s rock & roll as we get old.” This is followed by the frantic new song “Loving Cup.” Those who say the 2013 Oblivians couldn’t keep up with their younger selves surely haven’t heard this track.

A couple of songs invoke law enforcement. One is a less-than-two-minute quickie called “Woke Up in a Police Car,” which wouldn’t have sounded out of place on a Ramones record. But even better is the next song, “Call the Police.” With Mr. Quintron on the organ, the lyrics sound like a mad mash-up of Hank Williams’ “Jambalaya” and Louis Jordan’s “Saturday Night Fish Fry.” It’s actually a cover of a contemporary zydeco song by singer Stephanie McDee.

Another standout is “Little War Child.” Don’t worry, it’s not a rehashed Jethro Tull song. Starting out with the line “I met her at the battle of the bands … backstage I became her number one fan,” this is an ode to an unnamed female rocker. The melody is a nod to the old “girl-group” sound. And even though it’s Yarber singing, it should remind Cartwright fans that he produced, played on, and wrote songs for former Shangri-La Mary Weiss’ 2007 comeback album. I wouldn’t be surprised if Joan Jett covers it in the near future.

I’m not sure that The Oblivians will be a going concern. For one thing, I understand that Cartwright is working on a new Reigning Sound album. But judging by Desperation, I get the idea that these three guys enjoy playing with each other. I certainly wouldn’t mind if they stuck around for awhile.

Wanna hear the Oblivians during their heyday? Follow this link and you'll find a wild 1996 show in St. Louis.

Also recommended:

* Re-Mit by The Fall. It’s too late to turn back now. The Fall is an institution or maybe a natural phenomenon. They’ll probably never get popular, but for those of us who have heard the Call of The Fall, the world wouldn't be the same without them.

To the truly initiated, The Fall is everywhere. Every time you hear a car crash, a distant explosion, thunder cracking, a radio blaring static, a wino screaming profanities at nobody in particular — you hear the voice of Mark E. Smith ranting, grumbling, making rude noises in your head.

It doesn’t matter what he’s saying. Even when you’re able to make out the lyrics, good luck trying to decipher any meaning from the words. Here’s a random sampling of lyrics from Re-Mit:

“Shoes for the loadstones, shoes, shoes for the dead” (from “Loadstones”).

“The Italians certainly like their Sundays” (from “Jetplane”).

“James Murphy is their chief. They show their bollocks when they eat” (from “Irish”).

No, it doesn’t matter what he says or even what he means. What matters is that Mark E. Smith is there.

For years The Fall shuffled members more often than Smith changed his socks. So it’s remarkable that the band has kept the same lineup for the past three or four albums: keyboardist and singer Elena Poulou (Smith’s wife and band member for more than a decade); Pete Greenway, guitar; Dave Spurr, bass; and drummer Keiron Melling.

These guys and gal have become very proficient in their roles, cranking out tasty garage riffs (Hey! I recognize The Yardbirds’ “Heart Full of Soul” in “Irish”) while Smith does his shaman/crank bit. Poulou seems to be leaning more into electronic poots and squiggles than she has on previous efforts. But nobody’s going to mistake this for some throwaway electronica record.

This, by some counts, is The Fall’s 30th studio album. Here’s to 30 more.

Thursday, June 06, 2013

"With his gravelly baritone and spare percussive guitar, Johnny Cash had a distinctive musical
sound — a blend of country, rock 'n' roll and folk — that he used to explore issues that many other popular musicians of his generation wouldn't touch. His songs tackled sin and redemption, good and evil, selfishness, loneliness, temptation, love, loss and death. And Johnny explored these themes with a stark realism that was very different from other popular music of that time."

No, that's not a music historian. That's Dennis Toner, a member of the U.S. Postal Service Board of Governors talking about the man in the black stamp.

Earlier this year, the Postal Service released a stamp for Mexican American singer singer Lydia Mendoza. Ray Charles is getting one later this year.

I met her once, at a Shalako ceremony at Zuni Pueblo in the mid 1980s. It was about 3 in the morning and all I could think of to say was "I'm one of your biggest fans." She didn't seem impressed.

Later that morning I saw her in a Shalako house. She as sitting down and one of the Mudheads running around nearly tripped over her.

A few months later I saw Home of the Brave at the old Jean Cocteau theater. Tell me her musicians in the clip below don't look like Mudheads. (Though I think the concert was actually shot before I saw her at Zuni.)

Monday, June 03, 2013

* The Gangster is Back by Johnny "Guitar' Watson. Back in the mid 70s, rock stations across this fair land began playing this smooth, funky tune with an amazing little blues guitar solo in the middle featuring this guy singing about his economic frustrations:

"I program computers /I know accounting and psychology / I took a course in business / And I can speak a little Japanese .../ Gotta work two years / To get one week off with pay /And when I’m on my job / I better watch every word I say ..."

The singer's name was Johnny "Guitar" Watson, and this oddball hit was called "Ain't That a Bitch." For most of us, Watson seemed to have come out of nowhere. But the truth is, the Houston-born bluesman had an impressive resume going back to the early days of R&B and rock 'n' roll.

The Gangster is Back is a compilation of some of his earliest recordings, including records he made for the Bihari Brother's RPM label, including "Johnny Guitar," "Hot Little Mama," "Too Tired" and "Don't Touch Me."

But his classic song from the 1950s, alluded to in the title of this collection, was "Gangster of Love," a song later covered by Johnny Winter, Steve Miller, The Grateful Dead, Sam the Sham & The Pharaohs (where I first heard it) and others.

The best line in the song, exemplifying Watson's cocky attitude, and arguably anticipating gangsa rap, was "The sheriff said, `Is your name Johnny 'Guitar' Watson?' in a very deep voice / And I said, "Yes sir, brother sheriff, and that's your wife on the back of my horse.'"

* With the Wild Crowd by The B52'S. Techno-goof lives! I'll admit I hadn't thought that much about the B-52s lately until I saw a recent tweet from the Dangerous Minds blog linking to a blog post titled "Only Assholes Don't Like The B-52s Part 6." I read that post, then followed the links and read the previous five parts. But before I even started, I realized, by cracky, he's right!

I've loved this band since their first album came out. Back about 1980 or so, when there was a hot-tub business downtown called The Soak, my then-wife reserved us a tub room and told me to bring some romantic music. I was shocked that she got pissed at me for bringing a cassette of The B-52s' first album. What's not romantic about "Rock Lobster"?

This is a fairly recent (2011) live album by The 52s. I knew they're. Still touring in one form or another, but frankly, I was afraid that they'd devolved into a casino act. Well, it's true that the huge majority of the songs here are from the days of yore. But, performing before a hometown crowd in Athens, Ga., the band is on fire. Kate and Cindy sing their guts out and geeky old Fred exudes Frednicity all over you.

Plus, I like their new songs like "Love in the Year 3000," (Come on fellas, admit it. You've fantasized about "erotibots" who look like Kate and Cindy, right? ) "Funplex" and "Ultraviolet." In fact I've put their 2008 studio album Funplex on my "Saved" list for future consumption.

* Re-Mitby The Fall. The Fall is an institution, or maybe a natural phenomenon. They'll probably never get popular, but who those of us who have heard the Call of The Fall, the world would not be the same without them.

To the truly initiated, The Fall is everywhere. Every time you hear a car crash, an explosion, a radio blaring static -- you hear Mark E. Smith ranting, cursing, making rude noises in the background.

It doesn't matter what he's saying. Even when you're able to make out the lyrics, good luck trying to decipher any "meaning."

What matters is that Mark E. is there.

This, by some counts, is The Fall's 30th studio album. Here's to 30 more.

* Floating Coffinby Thee Oh-Sees. This year is not even half-cooked yet, so it’s much too early to be declaring an album of the year.

But from my very first listen, I knew in my heart that Floating Coffin, the latest CD by Thee Oh Sees,would place high in my annual Top 10 list.

Sound familiar? I just slobbered all over this album in last Friday's Terrell's Tuneup. Read the whole review HERE.

Big Enchilada Souvenirs

Just So Ya Know ...

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